Starcraft: Psionic Gamble
by razielreaper
Summary: The story of a ghost oc throughout sc1/2 . will contain romance and the chars presented and others. Enjoy:)


**Prologue...**

_"A true hero is one who is always willing_

_ to sacrifice himself and his happiness_

_ to protect those closest to his heart_

_ and fight for everything that he believes in"_

_**-Codename: Omega, Ghost Agent 502331**_

_ Omega's Videolog. Date:25.08.2496 : _This is ghost operative Omega, number 502331. I once had a name, but I guess it is irrelevant now. A lot of things seem to be so nowadays, since bitter life decided to rip me away from my peaceful life, and throw me in a middle of a torrent of madness that not even now, when the horrors of war are no longer disturbing for me, can I fully discern. One may ask why should I care, since for a ghost operative, the very concept of one's past and everything it includes is irrelevant. A ghost is trained to live for the war, forever alone in battle, every other notion... friends, family, compassion...love...being nothing but irrelevant memories that one should seal forever away in the deepest corner of the mind, left there to rot away 'till the end of one's days. Yet I choose to remember, and thus I record my life before it fades, far far away, along with all the rest I once held dear.

I guess I should start with the very beginning. I was born on a small planet on the very edge of Confederate Space. The name, as relevant as it may have been, I have long forgotten. I remember the rain... the damn planet was like a huge cloud in a constant downpour. I was born in a small town, in one of the last patches of land still untouched by extreme industrial pollution. My father was a lawyer, and my mother a doctor. I remember dad used to travel to the nearby city every day for work, and , seeing it in the distance, I always looked at the planetside metropolis with pride and unprecedented amazement. When the time came, I went to highschool there, as the town had no such facilities. I remember that day, the first day I ever spent in that city. It was all a dream. The grandeur of the concrete behemoth was as imposing as it was breathtaking and soon I let myself be carried away by the beauty of its lights.

As the studies progressed, I got more and more used to the city. I have always been a loner, so I found it hard to make friends, let alone any serious relationship. Everything changed, as a mysterious girl came into our class. It's been 10 years since I have last seen her, and despite the closeness between the two of us, I still cannot remember her name, yet I do remember her as clearly as the light of day. Her black hair, a little past shoulder length, and her beautiful dark blue, almost black eyes. Her most defining trait, however, was her girl, the new classmate, was the only person in the school to whom I willingly spoke for pleasure. As we became closer and closer, we eventually began having feelings for each other. At the age of 25, both having finished highschool, we got married and moved into the city. Life seemed unreal, and the loner had finally found a soul-mate.

But this was never meant to last. Ten years ago my wife was assaulted by armed men. It was a rainy night...rainier than usually when we were cornered as we enjoyed our evening walk, together. I had nothing to do with war back then, so, as they held me and assaulted my only love, I couldn't help but watch with empty eyes, anger gathering inside me, until it had nowhere to go. At the pinnacle of rage, it was the first time my psionic powers manifested, as when one of the thugs attempted to rip her clothes off, I made his head explode in a torrent of gore. The others were dispatched easily, too scared to further attempt anything. My wife looked at me in amazement and fear, and then began crying silently. It took a split-second to realise what I have just done, and the consequences of it. I could only hold her in my embrace, smiling sadly, and making promises I knew I couldn't keep anymore.

A month later, I woke up with the hounds at my doorstep. They call them Wranglers. They are lowly psionic users that serve as bloodhounds for the ghost academy. For me came a large, bald man with a short colleague. They both wore black attires decorated with the Confederacy symbol on the left arm and that of the Academy on the right arm. I have invited them inside, although reluctantly, and the bald one spoke:

"It has come to our attention that you manifested some special powers. They are called psionics and are difficult to control. In the name of the Terran Confederacy , we would like to invite you to join the Ghost Academy. It is a place where we help other such gifted individuals like yourself master their abilities."

"What if I refuse?" said I, skeptically.

A brief silence pressed between us when the short one demanded a glass of water, and my wife quickly left to get it. Profitting of the intimacy, the bald one whispered.

"Then we promise you that you will join anyway, but with your wife's death on your conciousness."

That settled it, and just two weeks later I left, saying goodbye to her one last time. After ten years I still have regrets, and never tried to call or look for her, as the academy forbade connections with our former life. Now we only lived to serve. As I would soon find out, I finished the academy in only two years because of my perseverence and extremely high psionic potential, my Psi Index standing at 12. On July 13th, 2488 I had a neural Psi Inhibitor implanted and officially became a Ghost trooper. My weapons of choice were daggers and a standard issue Sniper Rifle. In just a few more years, I got a promotion and because of the new Zerg threat, I was dispatched to Mar Sara. And now, the shuttle taking me there was finally about to land.

In ten years emotion died, and I stood there ready, embracing the only pleasures I am entitled to feel: the glory of war, the instinct of survival, and that bitter, false sense of patriotism...


End file.
